When you are at sea, you don't sense the scent of the sea. You sense horrible smells. The stink of damp ropes, below the deck stink and the stink of sailors. When you are at the beach, then salty scent of the sea is tickling your nostrils. It's distinct against the sweet scent of creek, pine and needles.
Tiny insects flock above the unknown herbs. They taste sweet juices we never tasted. Maybe some unknown predators are watching us from the bushes, some vampires that didn't bite us yet. We don't see the eyes of indigenous people wondering if they should slaughter us now or wait till we wade deeper into the land.
Everyone is thinking the same. Is this god's or devil's land. Even if this land was god given, no one is sure if it was wise to spill the blood of animals and break the branches of the trees. Are we taking what's ours or defiling a sacred?
To reach this shore, we had to offer horrible sacrifice. Is the plume we see in the distance our reward or our punshiment. Is this island just a temptation? Is it merely a test to find if we are worthy of reaching the holy lands.
Then there is that syrup. Sweetness we all hold for a hidden poison. Milk we didn't found yet, but the honey started pouring...
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